


Just Another Story I Can't Tell Anymore

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: The Boys (TV 2019)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Barebacking, Cunnilingus, Denial of Feelings, M/M, PWP, Pining, Post Season 2, Season 2 spoilers, Trans Male Character, Trans Man Hughie, Unhappy Ending, Vaginal Sex, porn without plot/plot what plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 05:47:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29588133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: “What are we going to do?”Butcher’s not entirely sure what the lad is asking about. Whether he means Vought, alive and kicking like the dead horse that won’t fucking die. Whether he means Ryan, who is a problem and a half while not being a problem at all. Whether he means the two of them, where they stand, after all this.Butcher decides he only cares about the last one right now. “C’mere,” he says softly.
Relationships: Billy Butcher/Hughie Campbell
Comments: 2
Kudos: 33





	Just Another Story I Can't Tell Anymore

**Author's Note:**

> got a hankering to write some trans man hughie, and decided to do a post s2 fic! this one is gonna hurt, folks. 
> 
> disclaimer: hughie's trans experience is based on my own trans experience and those of my friends. your mileage may vary. additional related disclaimer at the end of the fic 
> 
> big thanks to han for beta'ing! i love making you confused about what happens in s2 since you're not caught up yet haha

Butcher sees the scars on Hughie’s chest when the ER nurse has to cut his shirt off, exposing his blood-covered chest and the mottled skin where Starlight cauterized the wound. They’re faint, so much so that they’d be easy to miss if Butcher wasn’t so worried for Hughie. He can’t say anything about it when he sees them, though, namely because the kid is out cold and they’re rushing him off to emergency surgery. He ends up stuck in the waiting room with Starlight, both of them keeping their heads down to avoid being spotted.

He could ask Starlight; he doesn’t know what she’d tell him, if anything.

He decides to wait until after Hughie is back from surgery, still asleep but bandaged and no longer bleeding. He falls into a chair at Hughie’s bedside and Starlight falls into the other one. Butcher doesn’t even get a chance to open his mouth, though.

“You didn’t know,” she says after a beat of silence. “About Hughie.”

Butcher nearly swallows his tongue. “Nah,” he says eventually. His voice sounds shakier than he’d like.

Starlight tilts her head curiously at him. Hughie’s body separating them feels strange, especially since they’re talking about him. “So you two haven’t screwed yet, then.”

Were he a lesser man, Butcher would blush. As it is, he drops his gaze and shakes his head. “Nah,” he says again. “Lad never made a move.” It’s a poor excuse, one that hides Butcher’s own fear and uncertainty.

Starlight scoffs. “I don’t think Hughie really makes a move on anyone, really. Not often, anyway.”

Butcher ignores the jealousy boiling in his chest with the knowledge that Hughie made a move on Starlight. A fucking Supe, of all people; Starlight, who was ready to kill Hughie to save her own hide. He shrugs, forcing out an aura of nonchalance and disinterest. “Doesn’t matter.” He looks away, toward the door to the hall. The hospital they’ve found is relatively quiet, not a lot of bustling happening outside the room.

He keeps staring, though, even as he feels Starlight gaze boring into his side.

Eventually, she gets tired of waiting for him to look at her, because she speaks again. “If you made a move, he wouldn’t turn you down.”

Butcher bites the inside of his cheek to keep from replying.

“The way he looks at you, the way he talks about you.” She lets out a frustrated sigh. “It drives me crazy.”

“Why d’you want me to go after him, then?” Butcher asks, voice sharp. “You ought to be perfectly happy keeping him all to yourself.”

“I am,” she says, “he wouldn’t be, though. He loves you too much for that.”

Butcher goes stock still even though he wants to choke on his inhale, kind of wants to throw up, absolutely wants to throw himself out the window. No one has loved him since Becca, and he’s not even sure she still feels that way about him. Butcher lets out a slow, steady exhale.

“He does,” she says, as though he didn’t fucking hear her the first time, as though he asked her to repeat herself. “He’s probably just scared.”

Butcher doesn’t ask her why Hughie would be scared; he’s well aware of the answer, has repeated it as a mantra to himself often. “He should be,” he says instead.

Starlight shakes her head again. “Boys are so dumb.”

* * *

Even if he wanted to, it’s not like Butcher has time to make a move. Between Lamplighter lighting himself up, and having to hide Starlight and her damn mum in their dingy little basement, and fucking Vogelbaum’s head getting blown up—dealing with his feelings just isn’t high on the list of priorities. The next few days pass in a blur, particularly the moments when Becca and Hughie are in the same room together. That’s not something Butcher ever thought he’d have to deal with. Either he’d run off into the sunset with Becca, or he’d give up on his dream with her and keep Hughie around until the lad got wise.

And yet, for as insane as things get, Butcher would take the chaos over what comes next: unnerving quiet and stillness. Like in the forest after Ryan’s little outburst, Stormfront blown to pieces a few feet away and Becca bleeding out at his feet. The sound of blood gurgling had been deceptively quiet, barely louder than the rustle of leaves. Homelander’s resigned silence had been unsettling, too; Butcher always thought seeing the Supe defeated would be euphoric, the best kind of drug. Instead, Butcher barely even acknowledges it.

Even the basement is silent, later on. Despite the fact they have a Supe kid running around, the space is a little less crowded since Starlight and her mum have fucked off. Ryan isn’t much trouble, anyway. He’s quiet, and polite, gets on with Hughie like a house on fire.

Butcher knows he needs to give Ryan to Mallory, that it’s the only way the kid will be safe, but watching Hughie and Ryan talk animatedly about Legos of all things, it makes Butcher’s heart ache anew. He wants to look away—because it hurts, because Ryan looks more like Homelander than he does Becca, because Hughie is just too goddamn beautiful—but he can’t. He can’t take his eyes off the two of them.

He only comes out of his melancholy when Hughie rises and starts making his way over to Butcher. Behind him, MM swoops in and guides Ryan out of the basement before Butcher can protest. It’s then that he realizes that Frenchie and Kimiko are nowhere to be found, either.

“Hey,” Hughie says as he comes to a stop in front of Butcher. “So.”

Butcher simply arches an eyebrow at him. Hughie rolls his eyes accordingly.

“What are we going to do?”

Butcher’s not entirely sure what the lad is asking about. Whether he means Vought, alive and kicking like the dead horse that won’t fucking die. Whether he means Ryan, who is a problem and a half while not being a problem at all. Whether he means the two of them, where they stand, after all this.

Butcher decides he only cares about the last one right now. “C’mere,” he says softly.

Hughie obeys easily, stepping closer until his dirty sneakers scuff at Butcher’s boots. “I’m here,” he says, like Butcher can’t fucking see him already.

Butcher raises a hand—a shaking hand, and he’s glad Hughie can’t see it—and places it on the back of Hughie’s neck. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

Hughie glances down at his chest, plucks at the t-shirt hanging loose on his frame. Butcher knows what lies underneath the well-worn cotton: twin pale scars, two pert nipples, and the discolored patch of skin from his wound. Hughie looks up with a knowing twist to his lips. 

Butcher doesn’t know if maybe Starlight spilled the beans or if Hughie just wasn’t quite as out of it as he seemed, because he doesn’t ask Butcher to clarify. He shrugs. “You never asked.”

Butcher frowns, brow furrowing. “How the fuck am I supposed to ask if I don’t even know?”

Hughie grins and shrugs again. “I don’t know, Butcher. I don’t really go around telling most people. It’s not their business.”

“It’s not mine,” Butcher agrees.

But Hughie shakes his head. “It could be.” He steps closer still and it leaves their bodies pressed together from knee to chest. “If that’s what you want.”

“Hughie,” Butcher says softly, a warning.

Hughie isn’t deterred, though. He smooths his hands over Butcher’s chest before gripping the lapels of his jacket. “I’m not actually scared of you, you know.”

“You should be,” Butcher says. Even so, his hands land on Hughie’s hips and thumb under his shirt.

“Maybe,” Hughie concedes. “But I’m not. Maybe that makes me stupid, or naive, but I don’t care.”

Those words are the straw that break Butcher’s back. He simply can’t resist any longer. He yanks Hughie in closer and slams their mouths together. For a second it’s brutal and biting, but then Hughie gentles the kiss. He does it skillfully, swiftly, leaving Butcher entirely disoriented.

“C’mon,” Hughie says with a nod toward his sorry excuse for a bedroom. “Please?”

Butcher swallows his groan and pushes Hughie back. “Lead the way, then.”

Hughie does with a hand on Butcher’s jacket to pull him along. “I’ve wanted this for so long.” He kicks the door shut behind them, then snakes around Butcher in the small space to fall onto the bed. He hasn’t even stripped yet, still has his damn shoes on.

“You expect me to do all the work, n’get you out of those clothes?”

Hughie rolls his eyes, more affectionate than Butcher deserves, and peels his shirt off. He drops it off the side of the bed and sits back, content to let Butcher drink his fill.

And oh, Butcher does. Hughie isn’t quite scrawny but not built, either. Leaner than Butcher himself, softer around the edges. The smattering of chest hair is light and, when Butcher lays a hand to it, soft under his touch. Butcher’s hand moves almost of its own accord until his fingers are hovering over one pale scar tracing the underside of Hughie’s pectoral.

“Got it done as soon as I turned eighteen,” Hughie answers the unasked question. “I started transitioning before that, though.”

Butcher nods. Slowly, he sinks to the bed, on his knees beside Hughie’s body. “Did it hurt?”

Hughie laughs. “Yeah, but it was worth it.”

“I bet it was.” Butcher finally gives in to the urge to touch just long enough to let his calloused fingertip drag over the scar. Then he returns to flick at the pert bud that is Hughie’s nipple. “Still sensitive, are they?” He asks in response to Hughie’s shuddering gasp.

Hughie just nods.

“Get undressed,” Butcher commands before rising from the bed. He makes quick work of his own clothes, leaving them in a lump on the floor with the rest of the clutter. Hughie’s done the same and for a moment, they both stay still, simply staring at one another.

It’s Hughie who speaks first. “God, you’re hot.”

Butcher can’t help his grin. “Yeah? This doin’ it for you, love?”

Hughie only spreads his legs in response and this time Butcher’s the one left flustered and gobsmacked. The sight is beautiful: a stiff, small cock protruding from a mess of curls even wilder than the ones on Hughie’s head, and below that two plump lips already starting to glisten with arousal. Butcher swallows.

“Hughie,” he starts, although he’s not even sure what he wants to say.

Hughie doesn’t seem deterred. He only spreads his legs wider and holds out an inviting hand. Butcher takes his hand and joins him on the bed slowly, settling between his spread thighs like a puzzle piece that’s met its match. It’s takes all of Butcher’s effort not to stare, because for as much as he’s admired Hughie up until now, none of it compares to seeing him nude. He’s perfect, fit in just the way Butcher adores. Strong arms with wiry legs, the scratch of body hair under Butcher’s eager roaming hands a delightful rasp.

“Fuck, Hughie,” Butcher moans quietly. “Don’t know what I want to do first.”

“Well, hopefully me.”

Butcher flicks him upside the head for the quip, then finally bends down to kiss him. It’s slow and wet, a deep and searching kiss as they settle into each other. It doesn’t feel how Butcher thought it might. For all the times he imagined bending the lad over a sink or a couch, or dragging him into the backseat of whatever car they had at the time, he never expected it to be like this.

Easy.

Easy for their bodies to slot together. Easy for them to move together, from their tongues to their fingertips, like they’re somehow synchronized. It’s flawless, how Hughie tilts his head at just the right moment for Butcher to lick at his teeth; it’s smooth, the way Butcher grabs at Hughie’s leg and helps him hitch it up over his waist. Every movement is like a well-coordinated dance, despite neither of them having shown up for rehearsals.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Hughie says. He’s grinding his hips slowly against Butcher’s. His cock is hot, a beacon of pressure against the underside of Butcher’s dick.

“I’m thinking about you,” Butcher replies before kissing the response from Hughie’s lips.

Hughie moans into the kiss and buries a hand in Butcher’s hair, tugging hard. “Good,” he murmurs, the kiss turning sloppy. “I think about you a lot.”

“Yeah?” Butcher’s body feels like it’s burning up. He feels giddy, like the first time he got a girl in the backseat of a car when he was a lad. “You touch yourself thinking ‘bout me? You do it in here, with the crew just a couple feet away?”

Hughie nods and tightens his hand in Butcher’s hair again. “Too fucking often, all the time.” Hughie tugs him in for a kiss and reaches between their bodies with his free hand. He skirts his fingertips over Butcher’s dick before curling his fingers around the hot, hard skin. “It was embarrassing.”

Butcher wants to ask. He wants to hear about it in detail, Hughie fucking himself stupid in this dingy little room while thinking about Butcher. He wants to know what Hughie’s fantasies are like—are they soft and gentle, or do they involve Butcher slamming him up against a wall by his throat? Butcher’s had his fair share of either, but sometimes the lad drives him so fucking crazy, the last one seems like the best option.

“Butcher,” Hughie pants. He tightens his grip on Butcher’s cock. “We don’t have all day.”

“We’ve got long enough for this,” Butcher says before shuffling out of Hughie’s grasp to duck between his legs instead. Hughie lets out a moan at the sight and hooks his legs over Butcher’s shoulders eagerly.

“Yeah, okay,” Hughie whines.

He’s already wet, Butcher can smell it, wants to drown in it. He leans forward without hesitation and wraps his lips around Hughie’s cock. It’s hot and stiff against his tongue and Butcher wants to play with it until Hughie cries. That would take far more time than they have, though, so he settles for sucking Hughie’s cock hard and fast. Hughie downright wails and ruts his hips up against Butcher’s mouth.

He’s going to have righteous beard burn by the end of this, and Butcher’s already imagining running his lips over the red skin later, making sure it stays raw and tender. Making sure Hughie can’t forget about him even after they’re out of bed.

He sucks Hughie until he’s mewling, writhing underneath Butcher’s tongue. When he brings two fingers to Hughie’s cunt, they slip in smooth and easy, and his cock twitches between his thighs. It takes more self-restraint than he’d care to admit not to rut against the bed. Hughie arches his back and fucks back against Butcher’s fingers and the scent of his arousal only gets stronger.

“Fuck, lad, you’re perfect,” Butcher growls, lips still pressed against Hughie’s dick. He curls his fingers until he reaches the spot that makes Hughie’s eyes roll back in his head, mouth dropping open in a moan.

“Butcher, please,” Hughie knees him gently in the head, then reaches down to tug at his hair. “I’m not gonna last.”

Butcher pulls back reluctantly. He wants to spend his time taking Hughie apart, see how many times he can make him come in one sitting, but there just isn’t enough time. He slips his fingers from inside Hughie and licks them clean, moaning at the taste that spreads over his tongue.

“Condom?” Butcher asks. He’d be lying if he said his dick didn’t throb when Hughie shakes his head.

“It’s fine,” Hughie says, and Butcher doesn’t care enough to ask him to elaborate. Instead he lets Hughie pull him in close, lets Hughie kiss him languid and deep as Butcher lines up his prick at Hughie’s hole. Hughie breaks the kiss, shuddering, and he’s about to speak but Butcher beats him to it.

Butcher thrusts forward once until he’s in to the hilt and watches ecstasy play out over Hughie’s face. His eyes flutter shut, his mouth hangs open, and his cheeks turn ruddy pink. It’s beautiful, it’s lewd, and Butcher wants to commit it to memory.

Hughie still looks foggy-eyed as he reaches a hand down to grope at Butcher’s ass, trying to get him closer. “Swear to god, Butcher, if you don’t fuck me right now—?”

Butcher doesn’t bother replying other than to pull out, a slow and sinful drag, before slamming his hips forward. Hughie lets out a yelp of a moan, and then another, and another as Butcher pounds into him relentlessly. Every moan is staccato and it’s music to Butcher’s ears. It gets even better when he brings a hand to Hughie’s chest and pulls at a nipple, harsh to the touch.

Hughie lets go of Butcher’s ass to reach between their bodies instead. His knuckles bump Butcher’s stomach as he plays with himself, pushing himself closer to coming.

Butcher’s only regret is that he can’t see much from this angle, not that he minds being pressed so close to Hughie. It’s a closeness he’s craved for far too long, and he’s too greedy to let this go. Next time, though… “Next time, wanna watch you ride my cock, sweetheart.”

Hughie shudders. “Yes, yes, yes.”

“Bet your sweet cunt will look so good taking my cock, watchin’ it split you open.” Butcher groans, the image overwhelming even to himself. He has half a mind to turn them over, let Hughie fall into his lap like Brutus falling on his sword. The only reason he doesn’t is because he realizes, a bit belatedly, that Hughie is coming.

It’s a silent, gorgeous thing. His eyes are pinched shut and his mouth is a perfect, lusciously pink ‘o.’ His whole body shakes beneath Butcher and his dick throbs between their bodies, his pussy clenching around Butcher’s cock.

And then, the best part of all, is the dazed look the lad gives him as he comes down. Eyes half-lidded, licking his lips, filling Butcher’s every sense—it’s too much.

With a guttural groan, Butcher thrusts forward one last time and spills his load deep inside Hughie, who’s still clenching around him like a greedy vice. Hughie squirms under him at the feeling and it only prolongs Butcher’s pleasure, this perfect tightness on his cock, rubbing him just right.

Butcher shivers as he comes down. He slips out of Hughie, marveling at the way his cock glistens, before falling onto the bed beside him. Hughie smiles at him, even reaches out to toy with a stray strand of hair. It’s softer than Butcher knows how to handle, so naturally he breaks the moment by speaking.

“Where did MM take the boy?”

“Out for some ice cream,” Hughie says around a yawn. “Felt like we needed the space for a bit.”

“Wouldn’t have been the first time MM or Frenchie heard me.”

Butcher’s crude preening is cut short by Hughie’s unimpressed look. “No kid wants to hear their parent getting it on, trust me.”

Butcher can’t very well argue with that—but he can argue with part of the statement. “M’not his parent.”

“I know you aren’t genetically related, but Becca trusted you with him. If things weren’t so fucked up, if things were different, you would’ve been the one to raise him to begin with. And now you are.”

Butcher sighs and internally says goodbye to the afterglow. “I’m not gonna raise him, Hughie.”

A beat of silence, before, “What?”

Butcher groans and rolls away from Hughie, which means rolling out of the bed entirely because the damn thing isn’t big enough for two grown men. “I’m not gonna raise him.” Butcher puts his back to Hughie and starts to search for his clothes.

“What are you gonna do, then? Turn him over to Vought?”

Butcher doesn’t round on Hughie with a snarl, but it’s a near thing. “Fuck no, you daft cunt,” he spits, anger firing up inside him eager and fast, “Mallory’s gonna take him. It’s the safest option, n’Ryan don’t need a bastard like me raising him.”

Silence ensues as Butcher finds his boxers, his jeans, his shirt. He only looks at Hughie as he’s doing up the buttons on his shirt. Hughie’s staring at him, eyes and mouth wide.

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Hughie says eventually. “You’re the only good person that kid knows anymore, and you’re going to abandon him?”

“He doesn’t know me, and I ain’t a fucking good person. You know that.”

“No, I fucking don’t.” Hughie sits up straighter and as the blanket falls around his waist it highlights the bruises Butcher’s grip left on his hips. “Because all you’ve ever done from the start was the right thing. Sure, your methods are fucking insane and downright criminal, but you never did it for the wrong reasons.”

“Didn’t I?” He thinks of Becca’s words, about the hate in his heart and the warpath he’s on. It had hurt so much at the time because it was true. “Nothing I’ve done has been about doing the right thing, it’s all been for me. Getting you involved, dragging MM and Frenchie back into this. Fuck, dragging Mallory back into this? It’s all been for my own fucking selfish reasons.”

Hughie’s mouth slowly closes into a thin line. “I don’t believe that. You didn’t give up what you thought was your only shot at finding Becca to save my life because you’re selfish.”

“I just fucked you, didn’t I?” Butcher regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth. He regrets the way Hughie’s face drains of color even more. “Fuck,” he sighs. He slaps a hand over his face and pinches at the bridge of his nose. He doesn’t take it back, though, because it’s not entirely untrue. He didn’t save Hughie just because he wanted to fuck him—no, the much scarier truth is that Butcher saved Hughie because he loves him. And he can’t say that, not now, not in the middle of the spat.

Hughie isn’t looking at Butcher when Butcher finally looks at him. “You’re still a good person,” he murmurs. “You could still raise Ryan right.” Butcher doesn’t know if Hughie’s ignoring the hurt or just giving him the benefit of the doubt, but both options tug at Butcher’s heart.

“Right, cuz this place screams child-friendly. Give him a fucking needle and a pistol to have playtime with, shall I?”

Hughie groans. “You’re not the villain you think you are.” He finally looks back at Butcher, gaze hard and empty. Chilling. “You’re not like Homelander, you’re not like Vought, and you’re not like your dad.”

Butcher blinks, thrown off and surprised. Hughie continues before Butcher can blow up at him.

“But what the fuck do I know, right? Not like I’m the asshole who’s been in love with you, waiting for you for months, or anything. Not like I know you at all, William Fucking Butcher.” As he speaks, Hughie climbs out of bed and haphazardly gets dressed. His shirt is wrinkled and his jeans are worse. He doesn’t even bother trying to find socks, just jams his feet into his sneakers. “Don’t listen to me, that’s fine. You never fucking do anyway, even if I’m your canary.”

Butcher is still shocked, still stunned by Hughie’s words, when Hughie storms out of the bedroom and the basement altogether. There’s nothing left in his wake but the sound of doors slamming, one right after the other, and then Hughie is gone.

* * *

Hughie doesn’t come back. MM reunites with his family. Frenchie and Kimiko disappear to who-the-fuck-knows. Butcher gives Ryan to Mallory, after giving the kid Becca’s dog tags. It hurts more than he expects it to, even though he still barely knows him. Hughie’s disappointment in him, his anger, looms over Butcher like a storm cloud. When Mallory offers him the team to watch the Supes, Butcher simply walks away.

He doesn’t know where to go from here, but he’ll figure it out.

**Author's Note:**

> double disclaimer: butcher uses terms like "cunt" and "pussy" in reference to hughie's genitals (not in a transphobic way), so if that turns you off, skip this one. 
> 
> [come say hi on tumblr!](https://punk-rock-yuppie.tumblr.com/)


End file.
